Pitch leaned back in his seat and bit back a smile. Jack had just arrived with his little posse of do-gooders and he looked awful. How marvelous. It looked like his prediction had proved true, but there was nothing surprising about that. Jack had always been prone to bad dreams when stressed out.

As he relaxed and waited for the court to be called to order, Pitch idly wondered just what the albino's nightmares had contained this time. Judging by the way Jack had flinched when he saw Pitch, the ebony-haired teen had a good idea of who'd had a starring role.

It was really too bad he couldn't have actually been present for them. That would've been fun.

Oh well. At least it looked like it was time to get going. Excellent.

Aster tightly gripped the edges of his seat and gritted his teeth, watching in disbelief as Pitch spun a tale of lies to the court.

"The next thing I remember is waking up to those policemen knocking on our front door. Of course, I didn't know it was the police at first. It was only when I got downstairs that I found out who was making all the fuss. That wasn't what scared me, though. I only got scared when I saw Jack's friend with them and then they said I was being accused of murder and I, I started to run away. I'm sorry, I was scared and frightened. I'd only just woken up and, well, no one makes the best choices while barely awake." Pitch finished his statement with a sniffle and then rubbed his hand across his eyes as if brushing away tears.

Even from his seat in the back of the room, Aster could see that the jury was buying it. They looked totally taken in.

He tore his eyes away from the group of adults before he got too angry and glanced over at Ana. The blonde was holding onto Nick's arm tightly and staring across the room with eyes full of worry and concern.

Aster didn't even need to follow her gaze to know what she was looking at, but he did so anyway. Jack.

The albino looks so fragile right now, so weak and tired. They all knew Jack hadn't been sleeping well, not that he'd told them, but it hadn't been hard to guess. They'd all tried to ease his mind in their own way, but nothing had worked. They'd had to watch, helpless, as Jack once again grew fidgety and frightened. Aster didn't know how could Jack possibly sway the jury given his current state, but he had to hope that there was a plan.

After all, the lawyer Jack had been working with had to know about the issue what with all the meetings they'd had over the last few days and he still looked confident.

They just had to have a plan!

Apparently it was time to find out, because the prosecution had just called their star witness to the stand.

Jack rose to his feet, shot his friends a final, terrified glance, and took the stand.

Pitch really wished someone was recording this. Watching Jack stammer and stutter his way through the testimony was priceless and it was such a pity that Pitch couldn't truly enjoy it. Breaking out into laughter would, unfortunately, irreparably undermine his testimony.

Even his moronic lawyer seemed to be realizing this. The man had been practically downtrodden when the trial began, but now he was really getting into it! Firing off question after question at poor little Jack.

"And you claim that he locked you inside of the building with the key?"

"Well, well, yes, but…"

"The key that he picked from your pocket?"

"Ye-yes?"

Pitch glanced behind him at the gang. The looks of dread on their faces just made this whole thing even more delicious.

By the time a trembling Jack retook his seat, Pitch's lawyer had proved himself surprisingly competent. Even the buffoons in the audience had to have realized that only circumstantial evidence placed Pitch at the crime scene and that, if Pitch was innocent, Jack was guilty.

He could just hear the thoughts running through the jury's head right now.

Did those stutters and trembles came from a fear of being caught in his crimes? Was Jack's ridiculous story really true? What evidence did they have but his word?

Oh, this whole thing was delightfully fun! Pitch had never know being on trial was such a thrill.

Ah, and now it was time for the prosecution to call another witness, which they didn't have, which meant that this little game was almost over.

When the insufferable man who called himself the prosecution stood up, though, Pitch's good mood soured. Why did he look so confident?

Mr. Farley rose to his feet and marched onto the courtroom floor with a smile on his face. It was clear that everyone thought Pitch had won, but he hadn't. Everything was going exactly as he'd expected. Even Jack's abysmal testimony was playing into the plan. Now it was time for a little surprise, time to call forth the real star witness of this trial, but first he had to set the stage.

"What the defense has told you is true. The only individuals capable of starting that fire were Pitchford Black and Jackson Frost. Though we do know with absolute certainty that only one of these two boys started the fire, it is also true that Mr. Black's presence at the crime scene is only established by circumstantial evidence. Should the defendant be found not-guilty, Jackson Frost will indeed be accused of the crime and stand trial. With that in mind, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, please pay the upmost attention to my next witness."

Here he paused and turned towards the audience before saying, "The prosecution would like to call Dr. John Hutchinson to the stand."

Pitch frowned, both at the lawyer's confident tone and the strange witness. What was going on? He looked at his lawyer in confusion, but the man seemed just as lost. Not that it surprised Pitch, this fool was clearly useless if he didn't even know about this surprise witness. Who in the world was John Hutchinson?

Apparently he was the balding man in a crisp, navy suit currently walking to the front of the room. Knowing that there was nothing he could do, Pitch sat back and waited to see what was going on.

Once the elderly man had taken his seat before the court, Mr. Farley began his examination.

"Dr. Hutchinson, you are a licensed psychiatrist, correct?"

"Yes."

"And how long have you held that title?"

"Thirty-seven years next October."

"Would you please inform the court of your professional credentials?"

Before Dr. Hutchinson could answer the question, Pitch's lawyer called out, "Objection, your honor, what is the point of all of this?"

Once the question had been finished, the judge looked expectantly at Mr. Farley and said, "I assume there is a reason for this?"

"Indeed there is, Your Honor. I would argue that Dr. Hutchinson's testimony is what will ultimately prove Mr. Black's guilt."

Clearly intrigued, the judge nodded and said, "Objection overruled, please continue Mr. Farley."

Mr. Farley bowed lightly and said, "Thank you, Your Honor," before turning back to the witness and continuing with his examination. "Returning to my previous query, Dr. Hutchinson, would you please inform the court of your professional credentials?"

The man assented and rattled off a rather impressive string of titles, apparently having served as some form of military psychiatrist for the majority of his career until he'd decided to pursue a quieter practice ten years ago.

Once he'd finished, Mr. Farley said, "So you've been working as a professional in Burgess for how many years now?"

"Ten years."

"And, during that time, you were asked to perform a series of counseling sessions for a young boy who had just lost his parents in a fire, correct?"

"Yes, I was."

"Could you please tell us the name of that boy and when this occurred?"

"The boy's name was Jackson Nathaniel Frost and this happened roughly seven years ago."

"The same Jackson Frost who earlier gave testimony to this court?"

"The very same," Dr. Hutchinson replied with a smile that sent chills down Pitch's spine. What was going on here?

On the court floor, Mr. Farley returned the Doctor's smile and said, "Now, Dr. Hutchinson, as part of that counseling you diagnoses Jackson with a psychological condition, yes?"

Dr. Hutchinson smile turned sad as he nodded and said, "That is also correct."

Mr. Farley could barely contain his glee. It was clear from the looks on the defense's faces that they had no clue the bomb he was about to unleash. This was the kind-of case he loved, the reason why he'd gone into law, but he maintained his professional composure and continued with his questions. "Recently, you have undergone another series of sessions with Jackson at the request of this court. Did you find that diagnoses to still hold true?"

"I did indeed. In fact, the boy's condition seems to have worsened."

And here it was, the moment of triumph. There was no escape now. That little psycho would pay and Jack would finally rest easy. "Would you please inform the court as to the nature of that diagnosis?"

"Certainly. Seven years ago I concluded that Jackson suffered from a phobia due to the nature of his parent's deaths. That diagnosis still holds true: Jackson Frost is pyrophobic. The boy can't even go near a fire without suffering from mild paralysis. It's my professional opinion that there is no way Jackson Frost could've set that fire."